Fly on the Wall
by fifthofnovember
Summary: It wasn't sexual, it was something more.
1. Chapter 1

It wasn't sexual, what they did. It was and had been many things since it had started, but it had never been about sex. It had been curious, angry, comforting, funny, and they had managed sensual a few times, but it had never been sexual. Most people would find that strange; most people would find even doing it strange. Cuddy had the first few times as well, but she didn't find it odd that it wasn't sexual between them. House had explained very little to her about his motivations, and she had explained nothing to him about hers. The most of it was simply understood, and that was part of the beauty of it. If they had discussed it that would have become awkward, much like it was the first time, which had been an accident. It hadn't been about sex that time either.

It had been about a headache and about frustration and about the fact that it was a little past midnight and Cuddy still couldn't get her budget report to balance and it was almost definitely House's fault. The knot in the pit of her stomach wasn't the good kind one feels when they're aroused, but Cuddy figured that pretending it was might make it go away anyhow. Besides, her eyes were starting to cross from looking at numbers and Excel for too long, and when she got this tense she had a habit of wearing her shoulders for earrings, which she's obviously been doing if the tension headache she was getting was any indication. After switching her web browser to InPrivate surfing, Cuddy pulled up a few of her standby sites: one with original erotic stories, some adult fan fiction, and another with free lesbian video clips.

She liked the original stories because she could create the characters and settings in her mind, and the fan fiction was great because there was no way Aragorn and Legolas had gotten it on or were ever going to get it on, but reading about what they'd probably done while they were hanging around waiting for death at Helm's Deep was almost as good as having watched it. Still, nothing beat watching a bored, unsatisfied housewife find a way to pay the cleaning lady anyway after discovering her husband had taken the checkbook. Cuddy occasionally marveled at the convenience of masturbation, and this was one of those times. While it paled in some ways when compared to partner sex, it definitely had its advantages. No partner to worry about pleasing or teaching how to please her, no relationship to maintain, no foreplay, and honestly, who knew what she liked better than her? With the proper motivation, she had the job done in under three minutes, head clear, muscles relaxed, headache gone and House standing at the door. Wait. _House standing at the door?!?!?!?!_

He'd left. She had seen him leave. She had run out herself to grab a quick salad from the deli down the street and he'd been getting on his bike and leaving. What she did not know was he was just dashing out to grab a burger from Garden of Eatin' and then, like her, he'd come back. But he obviously hadn't seen anything. Even House wouldn't be able to hide his reaction if he'd just watched his boss shove a hand up her skirt and get herself off watching lesbian porn. His expression was far too even to have seen it.

She got up and unlocked the door, making sure her skirt was back down where it belonged as she stood. When she worked this late, she never kept her office door unlocked, because there were worse people than House that may want to invite themselves in when they didn't think anyone was around, and by the time security got up to her office (assuming, of course, they were even watching the monitors and not sharing fries with House), it would be all over but the crying. She opened the door and House made a move to step into her office, but she leaned against the door frame, making it clear that she didn't want to get into a discussion with him.

"Yes?" she prompted.

"I just got your email, and you know what? You'd be about the last person I'd expect to get an email from, here, at midnight on a Friday night when everyone else is out partying, or home with their significant others. Forgoing all those comforts to do the budget report, I mean, _that's_ dedication right there."

"You're an ass. What do you want."

"I don't have my expense reports from last month. Or any other month, for that matter."

"Then who does? Cameron?"

"Well, if she did, I'd be surprised, considering they were never submitted. They were never even _created_."

Cuddy stood there envisioning at least three novel ways to murder House and hide the body by morning that she hadn't previously fantasized about. Without his expense reports, hers was never going to balance, and the Budget Committee would just love that. "So what am I supposed to do, House? The committee is going to wonder exactly what you did with $3,122 dollars last month. They're a little funny that way."

House huffed, unaffected. "I dunno. Make something up. Always works for me."

Cuddy turned and headed back to her desk, with House right behind her. She turned on him venomously. "House, get out of here. Your blood is going to be nearly impossible to get out of this carpet before the janitor comes in to vacuum."

"So _wound up_, Cuddy. And I don't see why, considering…" The hand gesture he made caused the blood to drain from Cuddy's face. "Oh come on. Don't be embarrassed," he continued, still ridiculing. "Everyone does it. In fact, where do you think I was when your email came in? If I'd have known, I'd have sure been up here a lot sooner discussing those facts and fingers…uh…figures."

"House…just…please. I was…I had a headache and…" As though there was anything she could say that would make this situation less uncomfortable.

"What were you looking at?" House peered over her computer monitor curiously. "Oooo…I'd have never guessed." He sat down in the chair in front of her desk. "So, you're into girls then?"

There was no dealing with House when he got like this about anything, only appeasing him. Cuddy couldn't even come up with a plan of attack for dealing with him when he got like this about this, because it had obviously never happened before. Appeasing him worked in other situations, and it was looking like her best bet now. "If I tell you, will you leave?"

He cocked an eyebrow expectantly. "That would depend on your answer, I suppose. But it's possible."

Cuddy took a deep breath and tried to center herself. "No. I don't like girls. Now leave."

"See, now I can't leave. Because if you don't like girls, that obviously creates a paradox because you were watching lesbian porn. So, either you're lying, or there's some other reason you were watching what you were watching, and you know how I am about things that don't make sense. By the way, would you mind emailing me that link?"

"Fine." Of all the people in the world, she knew best how House got about puzzles. She had to concede. "But then you're leaving, even if I have to call security to persuade you to do it."

House cradled his chin in his hand and leaned forward. "Go on. Inquiring minds want to know."

"When I watch women together, it's more of a turn on because it's easier to relate to what they're feeling. And lesbian porn is usually less…theatric…than straight porn." She could feel her cheeks burning. "Happy now?"

"Happi_er_. Just wondering if –"

"House! Get out of here!"

"Not until I know if you saw me standing there." He spat the sentence out as a child asks for a piece of candy he knows he's not going to get, so the act of asking is the only bit of control he has left over the situation.

"I was a little busy."

"Damn. I'd hoped that's why you got off so fast. Some people like to be watched, you know."

"Well, I'm not one of them."

"Damn _again_. Because I'd really love to watch you." There was something strange in House's voice. He wasn't jibing or ridiculing anymore, he was…sincere?

"Just get out of here."

House turned with a flourish. "If you change your mind just, you know, send me an email or something, OK?" The smirk was back in his voice and the door closed. Cuddy was sure then she'd misinterpreted what he'd said. She was just tired, embarrassed. He couldn't have _meant_ that, could he? They bantered like this all the time, after all, and neither of them ever meant all those innuendos and double entendres. This was just one more.

"House!"

He turned and re-opened the door a crack, peeking his head back in.

"Not a word. Please?"

"Who would believe me?" He smiled softly and closed the door again.

************************************************************************************

It had been a week. Cuddy had appealed to the Budget Committee for an extension, which they had been loath to give. She'd asked for two weeks. They'd granted her one and she considered herself lucky to have even that as she sat at her computer putting the finishing touches on her largely-falsified budget report. It was past one in the morning. Before Cuddy turned her computer off, she glanced up at the door. The disappointment she felt when she saw no one standing there took her by surprise.

***************************************************************************************

It had been a month. House had said nothing to her and she'd heard nothing from anyone else. There'd been no half concealed barbs in the lounge, no snickers behind hands, no heavy silences when she'd walked into a room.

*************************************************************************************

Cuddy couldn't remember when it had first happened, but it never failed. On those nights when she was distracted and her thoughts wandered, when her mind flashed from one former lover to another to the lovers she wished she had, all without success, the thought of House's eyes on her was what got her off every time. She didn't let it bother her; after all, it was just a fantasy.

*************************************************************************************

It had been seven weeks and three days. The discussion had been awkward but necessary, and House had been strangely agreeable and willing to compromise. Cuddy hung her purse on the coat tree just inside House's door. House was in the kitchen, making himself a drink.

"Do you want anything?" he asked without looking at her. The ease of his manner made her even more nervous.

"What are you having?"

"Bourbon. What else would I be having?"

"That's fine. No ice though."

House reached up into the cabinet and pulled down a second highball glass. He filled it a quarter of the way full and turned around to show it to her. It was the first time she'd seen his face tonight. "Little more." He poured another splash of liquor into the glass and looked again for her approval. She nodded and reached out her hand. He placed the glass into it and she took a sip, squinting slightly at the taste. She'd forgotten how much hard liquor burned. He sat down in the recliner and motioned for her to sit as well. She hadn't realized she was still standing.

She took another sip. "I'm surprised you're not paying someone for this."

House crossed his legs and leaned back, the picture of nonchalance and refinement. "Wouldn't be the same. Besides, I exaggerate."

"What do you mean?" Cuddy unconsciously mimicked his posture.

"To which?"

"Both."

"It would be too – what was the word you used? Theatric. And I really don't…pay…that much."

"Don't need to?" It was too obvious a quip to let it go.

House shrugged. "Don't need _it._" Cuddy cocked her head and one eyebrow in disbelief. "You see how many pills I take. You're a doctor. Figure it out." House didn't see a need to explain to her (at least not right now) about how sex to him was more of a bodily function than anything he felt a need to make a priority in his life, and as long as he still had the use of his hands that was just fine by him. He didn't go into the gory details of what heavy, long term opiate use does to one's sexual function and how even masturbating was more work than it was worth most times. He'd never confess to her that he'd been without human connection and contact for so long he'd forgotten how to miss it. All of that was more words than this arrangement needed.

"Wilson told me once that he's come over a few times and there's been…" she cut herself off, unable to verbalize it.

"I didn't say I never have. I just said I don't as often as people think I do, and I don't deny the rumors. Hell, I've even fueled them. Started a few myself, too."

"Why?"

"Keeps things interesting. Besides, normal men have sex, so…"

"Not with hookers."

"It beats rumors going around that you never get laid." The subtle smile directed at Cuddy did not go unnoticed by her.

"So you want people to think you're normal?"

"Not too normal. That's why I start all the hooker rumors."

"But they're not all rumors."

"Not all of them, no."

"This isn't normal."

"But yet, you're here. Speaking of, are you…are we…"

Cuddy took another long pull off of her drink, leaving only one more sip in the glass.

"Here?" The open space of the living room made her feel exposed.

"Would you prefer the bedroom?"

"No…I…here's good, I guess." Not in the bedroom. Too intimate.

House leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him.

The last sip of Cuddy's drink didn't last long. "Do you want me to ---" she gestured to indicate her clothing.

"However you're most comfortable." They both smiled at the irony.

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

"I can't believe you are either." Over the last 20 years, Cuddy had heard House's voice reflect many emotions. She'd never heard awe before tonight.

*****************************************************************************

She'd masturbated in front of a man before, a few times, actually, but it had always been a part of sex. A man had never sat there, fully dressed, watching with an expression somewhere between curiosity and admiration, and that man had absolutely never been House, nor had she ever predicted in a thousand lifetimes that it ever would be.

She'd finally gotten up the courage to ask him about it, ask him if it was really what he wanted, and he'd admitted it freely with no banter and no pretense. She'd approached him out of curiosity and because she couldn't get the fantasy out her head. She'd done it as much for herself as for him, and he'd asked very little of her, almost nothing, really. All he wanted was to watch. He'd promised not to touch her and he hadn't, except when he'd squeezed her arm and thanked her as he walked her to the door. He'd sworn he wouldn't make any lewd or degrading remarks, and he hadn't. He hadn't even said a word. They had agreed that she didn't need to get undressed at all if she didn't want to, so she'd left her clothes on except for her underwear, and those she'd removed out of necessity alone.

It had taken her longer than she thought it would. It had to have been a good half hour before she was able to let go and let it happen, but House had seemed content to wait. Cuddy didn't think he'd watched so much as he'd observed. She was sure he'd noticed every emotion she'd passed through as nervousness gave way to curiosity, curiosity became exhibitionism which became arousal which lead, by default, to release.

Afterward she'd felt defenseless and had tried to apologize for being so inhibited and for not letting him see more of what he probably wanted to see but he wouldn't let her. He'd cut her off and said only that she'd done perfectly and then he'd called her amazing…absolutely amazing.

House had upheld his end of the bargain like a perfect gentlemen and that, in itself, had laid many of Cuddy's concerns to rest. The second time was much easier.

**********************************************************************

Though neither of them admitted it – in truth, they never really discussed it – it had, in many ways, become more intimate to them than sex. Sex was always done together. Instead, they were experiencing something together that was almost always done in private.

After the nerves wore off, it had become a thrill. Cuddy wanted to see if she could get House to break, to make him want to touch her despite his promises that he wouldn't, or to touch himself. She knew very well she had no idea what she'd do if she succeeded in either endeavor, but that knowledge didn't stop her from trying; in fact, it gave her more motivation to try harder. House, however, had chastised her when she'd tried to show off too much. He'd told her if he wanted a show, he'd pay someone for one and was more than a little upset to have to even mention it because they'd had that discussion already. Cuddy was a little confused, a bit embarrassed, but after some thought she was mostly relieved. She'd actually started to enjoy the evening every week or so she'd spend at his apartment, and was grateful that he wanted her to as well, rather than wanting her to do it solely for him.

***********************************************************************

Every now and then Cuddy cursed herself for informing House about her fertility treatments. He'd kept track of her menstrual cycle and knew the exact day when her hormones would have her climbing the walls with desire. Of course she ended up at his apartment that night. It was also that night she discovered the down side of their arrangement.

"I've been thinking about this all day." She was practically salivating as she stripped her clothes off and sat down.

"Obviously," House confirmed as he sat down on the opposite end of the couch.

"You weren't?" she spiked right back at him, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

"Of course I was. I have a calendar too you know."

"You're a real…_oh god_…bastard."

"You know, that insult loses a lot of its heat when you moan it out." House leaned back against the arm of the couch, and Cuddy could swear she could physically feel his eyes on her. "God that looks like it feels good." No matter how many times he watched her, his voice never lost that edge of amazement.

"It _does_…_oh_… _yeah_ it does. You have _no_ idea."

"No, but I wish I did. They say a woman's clitoris has something like a hundred times more nerve endings than a man's entire penis."

"House…don't…with the medical stuff." Cuddy was almost panting.

"Sorry. I just mean, if my hand felt as good on me as yours apparently feels on you…. Hey, is it true that women get more sensitive when they're ovulating?"

Cuddy whined in a mix of exasperation and pleasure. There was no situation in which House would cease to be House. "What do you _ah_…think…I just wanna get off so _bad_."

"Don't let me stop you," House muttered, mesmerized.

"I was hoping you'd…help me."

"_What_?"

"Touch me. I want you to touch me." Even Cuddy knew it was all hormones doing it to her, she just wanted the contact so badly.

"I…I promised."

"I'm asking you to. House _please_…m'so close. Just let me finish in your hand."

"Can't…I can't."

"Yes you…._oh_…" Cuddy let her head fall back against the couch cushion. "You've watched me enough to…_oh my fucking god_…know how I like it."

"Cuddy…I can't." House sat up straight to watch more closely. "But I'm right here. Don't hold back. Let me see you come."

"_House_…"

"Right here, right next to you. Wow…that's gotta be good…show me how good it feels."

With two hard gasps and a moan that made the walls reverberate, she did. House was transfixed the entire time. She opened her eyes and turned her head, her eyes capturing his. "Damn," she murmured offhandedly as she pulled the throw from the back of the couch around her shoulders.

"You can say that again," House smiled.

"Why wouldn't you…before?" Cuddy tried to sound casual and merely curious later as she pulled her blazer back on.

"You don't really want me to."

"Really? News to me."

"Cuddy, if I…"

She interrupted him brashly, the first trapping of anger stirring at the base of her spine. "So, it's like this? You've seen me naked once or twice a week for the last how many months, you've watched me get myself off, and if you don't remember we've actually had sex before, but if you touch me _now_, it turns into something entirely different?"

"Exactly." House's voice was even and reasonable, robbing Cuddy of all her anger.

"Gregory House, I will never understand you," she said as she opened the door to the hallway.

"No, you probably won't."

******************************************************************************

It was the first time it had happened at her place. He'd kissed her through the tears of a heartbroken would-be mother, and then turned toward her bedroom. Without even kicking his shoes off he'd gingerly sat down on her bed, as though if he moved too much she'd realize he was there. He'd sat with his back against the headboard and held his hand out to her. She didn't take it at first and when her hand finally touched his, it felt forbidden and took all her strength with it. Cuddy allowed herself to be settled between his thighs, her back pressed against his chest, his body so familiar to her but at the same time so alien, the heat and the scent of leather and man so out of place in this room.

House brushed her sweaty and tear-soaked hair off her forehead and neck and wrapped his arm around her waist. "OK…It's OK," he repeated softly in her ear, over and over, like an incantation. "I've got you."

It was the first and only time he ever touched her. He never told her, of course, but he felt guilty for weeks for breaking his promise.

******************************************************************************

Cuddy had always wondered how a man with a cane and a limp could move so gracefully that he could be sitting down for lunch with her before she was even aware of his presence.

"What's with all the makeup?"

"It's called sleep deprivation. Not all of us can grab a nap in the clinic whenever we want. Or in Wilson's office. Or in your office. Or our cars. Or…do you see where I'm going with this?"

"Yeah, I see. It's called lying. Or fibbing. Or not telling the truth. Or bullshitting. Do you see where I'm going with this? What's with all the makeup?"

"Fine, House. If you really must know, I have a date tonight. Dinner at 7:00 at Del Ray's and then Faust, I assume you can find out where it's being played....since you're going to show up there anyway."

"I am most certainly _not_ going to show up there. What kind of man do you think I am?"

"The jealous kind who stalks me and then ruins my dates."

"Cuddy, you wound me."

"I don't belong to you, House."

"I never said you did."

"You don't have to. It's written all over your face."

"Oh, you mean when you're naked on my couch? That's not jealousy, Cuddy."

"Fine, then prove it. Leave me alone tonight, and nothing changes between us. It's just a date. I'm not with him. I wanted to see the play."

"Fine. I never insinuated anything else. That was all you."

********************************************************************

There are certain things a woman never tells a man. She never tells him he's wearing too much cologne, or that his hair is beginning to thin. She never tells him how many men she's been with, or at least she never tells him the truth. She never tells him how much she makes, especially if it's more than him, or that she drives a nicer car than he does. She never tells him his penis is anything other than huge or that she's had better.

And she never, ever, under any circumstances tells him she was thinking about someone else while she was in bed with him. She never tells him that it wasn't his tongue that made her moan and scream and grip futile handfuls of her satin sheets; instead it was the analytical icy blue eyes staring at her through the window.


	2. Chapter 2

House swallowed more of his feelings than even he liked to admit. He drowned the loneliness in alcohol, or at least tried to. His wit hid his physical pain. He didn't dare risk things like appreciation or thankfulness for fear they wouldn't be reciprocated, or worse yet, they'd be thrown back in his face. Trust was out of the question, despite the desire to. Cuddy knew this about him, so she was thoroughly surprised when he actually answered her question.

"Does this turn you on at all?" She hadn't been angry or even remotely annoyed, just genuinely curious, and the question had been more or less an afterthought, asked at the threshold of House's door.

Lately she'd taken to watching him watching her, and she never saw the slightest hitch in his breathing or flush of his cheeks. His palms had always been dry and no warmer than she'd expect on the [rare] occasions he'd touched her casually before she'd left. She had no other clues to go by with the limitations between them; he still refused to touch her and she had never attempted to touch him. He obviously enjoyed watching her, but his expression was always one of curiosity and appreciation, just as it had been that first nervous, awkward time. Anyone else would have been offended, but Cuddy knew that merely holding House's attention was very high praise indeed.

When she'd asked, he'd laughed at the question like the very asking of it was unnecessary because the answer should have been obvious. "Of course it does. How could it not?" He'd paused for a moment, unsure of whether or not to continue. "How can you even have any doubt?"

"Because I have no way of knowing." This arrangement, this ritual, was the only thing they were completely open with one another about. At work, things hadn't changed at all. They still lied to one another, played with one another, tried to outdo one another. But behind closed doors, there were no secrets and no need for them.

"The fact that I can't get enough of this, of you, of watching you; that doesn't tell you anything?" House knew Cuddy was one of the few people who had any insight at all into how his mind worked, more insight than even Wilson had. Wilson knew how he behaved and why; Cuddy knew how he thought.

"Maybe I'm just another puzzle to figure out."

"It's been how many weeks now? How many times? I think I understand how it's done." He smiled comfortingly. "I just think…I think it's beautiful. Sexy…how you're not this open with anyone else, have never been before me."

"Appreciating something and being aroused by it are mutually exclusive."

"Well, they're not mutually exclusive to me. This isn't, anyway."

"If you say so." Cuddy conceded, accommodatingly. She turned the door knob in her hand and opened it.

House took a step closer to her. They hadn't been this close since that one particular night, the last night House had put his hands on her, all over her as a matter of fact, and comforted her in the only way he could. Had it been another man, it would have meant nothing, but because it was him, it had meant everything, and it had been all that she needed. His voice was so hesitant and timid his doorway had become a confessional. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm so hard right now it aches. Always am."

Cuddy swallowed hard, unsure of what was supposed to come next. Things didn't progress normally for them. There would be no desperate kiss against the door, no buttons torn asunder, no breaking storm of passion, only a mounting static electricity they both felt equally, both of them afraid of what would happen if it found a way to ground itself.

She shouldn't have, but she couldn't stop herself; she reached out a hand to touch him, and then pulled back, then reached out again, like a nervous but eager child who wasn't sure if she actually knows the answer the teacher wants. Her nails had just made contact with the fabric of his pants when his hand encircled her wrist roughly. "Don't. For your own good." His tone was dry and firm. The charge between them was palpable now. Everything hummed with it, and the heat was concentrated at the point where their bodies touched. Cuddy's fingers tingled with the force of it, the energy in House's eyes was unmistakable. Cuddy didn't look away. "It won't bring anything but pain."

She took a shuddering breath and then moved to speak.

"Cuddy. Don't." His voice had softened. "You know me. You know us." His eyes left hers and she felt the energy recede. "I know me."

His grip on her wrist relaxed and she weaved her fingers into his, an unconscious symbol of the intimacy between them. "Then…what do you do? About…" she looked down toward the area of their intertwined hands.

"Same thing you do. Slightly different mechanics, of course."

"So much for the man who doesn't need sex." Her eyes and her voice gloated for her.

"So much for the woman who thinks she knows everything." They shared that familiar, playful smirk between them as the game of one-upmanship began. "I said I didn't need sex, and I don't. When other people get involved it gets complicated and messy…and expensive. That doesn't mean I don't need the physical release."

"I didn't think you could…with the pills…and…"

"Sometimes I can't. Depends on what sort of inspiration I have."

Cuddy separated their fingers and leaned haughtily against the door. "So am I…inspiring?"

"You haven't failed me yet."

"Do you mean ever, or just since we started doing…this?" Cuddy wasn't sure what to call "this" exactly."

"This, mostly, but you've always treated me pretty well," he commented with a lascivious grin. "It's just that men are visual."

"So are women. Remember that night in my office?"

"At least once a week in the shower."

Cuddy moved deftly toward the armchair, sat down, leaned back, folded her arms and crossed her legs. "Maybe I want something to remember, too," she hinted suggestively.

House was speechless, and Cuddy awarded herself with one more hash mark in their never-ending sparring match. "Sit down. I wanna watch you."

"I don't know if I can…I never have…" House stammered. Another hash mark.

"I'm sure you can manage." Her eyes drifted over his still obvious erection. "Do it to prove a point; that usually works for you. Prove to me that I turn you on."

"You're looking right at the proof." He sounded tense and strained.

"Not nearly as close as I'd like to. Come on. Fair's fair."

He swallowed the knot in his throat several times before it actually went down. Strangely enough, the knot was the only thing that went down. Cuddy was in full challenge mode now, and House knew that when she got like this, there was no negotiating. Ordinarily it infuriated him. In this context, it excited him. He moved slowly toward the couch, as though trying to delay the inevitable, and sat down, drying his palms on the thighs of his pants.

"Nervous, House?"

He gave Cuddy his best "duh" expression.

"You don't think I was?" She leaned forward in her chair a little, as though preparing to tell him a secret, even though they were alone. "I'll tell you something, though…the nerves make you come harder."

"We'll see, I guess." House leaned back on the couch, trying to get comfortable and failing. "So…uh…how do you want me?"

"Hard and thinking about me. The rest is up to you."

"The first part of that's never been a problem, Cuddy," House quipped as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"You don't…have to. I mean, I certainly won't mind but if you…"

"Just relax, would you? I'm not ruining this shirt." They both chuckled softly at that. Cuddy stopped laughing as her eyes took in House's body for the first time in 20 years; at least the first time not in a medical setting.

"Good lord, House. How are you still so sexy after all this time? It isn't fair." He didn't have the body of a lacrosse player anymore, but for a man his age, he still looked fantastic, and there was something about the way the cloth of his unbuttoned shirt rested over his muscles that made Cuddy wish there was some way one last night together wouldn't be a huge mistake and some way it would actually be the last.

House passed off her comment with a roll of his eyes, and unbuttoned his jeans. He hesitated at the zipper. "You sure about this?"

"Absolutely. You?"

"I think so." He smiled nervously. "Just…could you turn the lights down? Not all the way off…but…" Cuddy quickly got up and did as asked, turning the main room light off, but leaving the wall sconces on. "Thanks."

"Any time." She looked at House eagerly. "I'm waiting. And by the looks of things, so are you."

House rifled a nervous hand through his hair. He hadn't anticipated being this nervous, and he mentally credited Cuddy another hash mark for doing it with relative ease the first time. Sure, she'd had plenty of alcohol in her system at the time, a luxury he couldn't afford himself unless he wanted to go to bed very, very frustrated tonight and leave Cuddy disappointed. Neither outcome appealed to him, so he mentally steeled himself and worked his pants and boxers down just enough to free his erection.

He could feel Cuddy's eyes fixed on him, silently hoping for her approval. He glanced over at her, feeling bare under her gaze even though he still had all his clothes on, just as she had that first time. "Still so hard…" she marveled.

"Been like this for an hour. It doesn't go away that quickly." He wrapped his hand around himself and gave one slow, testing stroke, silently thanking himself for laying off the pills a bit tonight when he found he wasn't completely numb. Getting an erection had never been much of a problem for him no matter how much Vicodin he had coursing through his veins, even when it was mixed with a healthy dose of alcohol. Finishing, however, was sometimes another matter entirely, and there had been several occasions (though not recently, he noted) when the friction burns overrode any pleasure he felt and forced him to give up. Luckily, it didn't feel like tonight was going to be one of those nights, at least if the nerves didn't get him first.

Cuddy leaned back in her chair again, getting in a comfortable position to enjoy the show. Nervous House was even more sexy than Arrogant House, and she found Arrogant House sexy enough most times, at least when his arrogance wasn't giving her a migraine. She watched as he started a slow, steady rhythm, wanting to make sure he got himself good and worked up before he tried going for glory and wanting to give Cuddy what she wanted: something to remember.

Neither said anything for several minutes, Cuddy's eyes focused entirely on House, and his alternating between glancing at her, at his own hand, and drifting closed as he willed himself to relax. Cuddy had never watched a man before, and her eyes must have mimicked the curiosity and amazement she saw in House's as he watched her. She was enthralled by the way his hand glided smoothly up and down his length, twisting his fist over the head and back down again in a motion so practiced it was nearly second nature. She guessed she could almost feel what he felt as she watched the tendons in his hand flex and squeeze when his fist slipped over the most sensitive places, how he turned his wrist so that his fingertips would press in all the spots he liked best. And finally, finally, she could see him react. She watched as the muscles in his forearm tensed, as his breathing slowed and deepened; she saw a slight flush bloom at his chest and creep up towards his neck and a thin sweat had broken out on his forehead.

"Feel good yet?"

House's eyes shot open, startled back into reality by the sound of her voice.

"Felt good a while ago." His voice was thready and weak, his body allocating most of the oxygen in his blood toward feeding his aroused state.

"What are you thinking about?" She knew what the answer would be, she just wanted to hear it out loud.

"You…I'm thinking about you." It sounded as good as she'd imagined it would.

"What about me?" The answer to that was obvious as well, but Cuddy was greedy. She wanted to hear it in detail. She wanted to hear that he still wanted her.

"About how you touch yourself, how good your fingers look sliding in and out, how wet you get." He let out a soft moan, and Cuddy knew he was playing it back in his mind's eye. "I'm thinking about how much I want a taste."

Cuddy hadn't expected that. She'd thought despite House's attraction to her and despite how much he enjoyed watching her, that it was just a diversion. She'd never considered that he'd taken it any further, if only in his mind and she'd never considered the restraint it must take him every time to preserve their new found type of intimacy and not ruin it with something their relationship couldn't handle, never had been able to handle. Cuddy had also never considered how much she wanted him to do exactly that. She'd never thought she'd be in a position at any point in her life where she'd be relying on House to be the voice of reason, but that was exactly where she found herself. Didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun with it, regardless.

"I'd let you, you know." She wasn't sure if she was just playing along, or if she was telling the truth.

"Would you? You'd let me kneel down between your thighs and make you come on my tongue instead of in your hand?"

"Of course I would. You used to be so good at it." That was the truth. For twenty years, she'd held the memory of how many times House had made her scream in one night in her mind like a precious treasure.

"Still am…god Cuddy…the things I could do to you." The rhythm of his hand on his cock had picked up, and Cuddy could tell he was forcing himself to hold back. He liked where this was going too much to end it now, and Cuddy was getting too turned on to let him.

She hadn't realized it, but her own hand had settled on her thigh and was rubbing and stroking, instinct and the need for release taking over. Even out of the present and out of his mind with desire, House still saw everything. "Don't," House admonished. "You've already had yours. Just watch. I want you to ache tonight and get yourself off thinking about me when you get home." Cuddy became aware of her hand was and placed it back on the arm of the couch, mentally commanding it to stay there.

"Do you ever think about that night?"

"Only every time I look at you….Jesus Cuddy…so good." She didn't know if he was referring to Michigan or the present, but she didn't ask; he wouldn't have been wrong on either count.

"Tell me what you remember."

"The way you tasted…the way you dug your nails into my shoulders. The way you begged…how you moaned when I put it in you…arched against me…whimpered…told me you wanted it hard. So wet and hot and tight…so tight…you felt perfect."

The moan that filled the air then was Cuddy's and she wondered if that's how she'd sounded when House had taken her two decades ago. She saw him smile and sigh and figured it must have been close.

"Watching you…I remember how it felt. And I want it so much…so much."

"I want it too. I want you…I want to touch you more than anything." It was almost as if his hand had become hers. She could all but feel the hot silky flesh under her fingers, almost feel all those good places under her fingertips that made his breathing fall out of time, almost feel the wetness against her palm as it slid over the head of his cock. She wanted him more than she wanted her own breath.

"I bet you say that to all the guys who stroke themselves off in front of you…while talking dirty to you."

"Maybe. But I still want you." She spoke the words with mix of desire and tenderness that made House ache to be close to her, inside of her. But he knew he couldn't, or they'd never have this again.

"Did you like watching me with my date the other night?"

"Yes…no…I just wanted it to be me."

"I pretended it was you." It was wrong, but the thought of House watching her without her date knowing, while House knew it was him she was thinking of turned her on more than the sex she was actually having. If her date had thought it was him that turned her on like that, no harm done. That was Cuddy's logic, anyway.

"Did he give it to you as good as I did – as good as I could?"

"Not even close." There was a sincerity in her declaration that made House believe her.

"Cuddy, do something for me."

"Anything." At this point, she'd have denied him nothing. And that frightened her to the core.

"When you get home tonight …call out my name. Call out my name when you come."

"I will." She probably would have anyway. It wouldn't have been the first time, by far.

"Good…I wish I could be there to hear it. Ooohhh…fuck."

"Do something else for me."

"What?"

"Tell me when you want me to come."

"That close?"

"Yes."

"Then don't suffer on my account…but do something for me?"

"Absolutely."

"Call out my name. I am here."

She watched as House let his head drop back against the couch and the strokes of his hand shortened until he wasn't sliding his hand up and down his shaft anymore, just rubbing his fist over the head, over and over, harder with each pass, his rhythm becoming erratic and uneven as he got closer and closer to the moment of release. His breathing came in labored jerks and the cords in his neck stood out. Cuddy watched every muscle in his body flex and release, flex and release with all that built up tension. She knew he was imagining something about her, and that turned her on all the more. The energy between them was shared and intense; she almost felt like she was going to come with him, without even touching herself.

"House," she said softly. "Now. Let me hear it."

He'd called out her last name, and it sounded to her more beautiful than anything else he could have said, or any song he could play on any instrument. She'd always be Cuddy to him, always had been, always would be. Her first name off of his lips would have sounded brash and out of place, an abomination. This sounded right. She'd never be anything else to him, and they'd never be anything other than House and Cuddy. It wasn't normal, but then again, nothing between them was.

House opened his eyes once his breathing had returned to normal. He reached toward the coffee table for a napkin from some takeout meal or another he'd eaten in front of the TV and cleaned himself up, then readjusted his pants and boxers. He looked at Cuddy with a sheepish grin on his face. "Did you feel kind of…awkward…after?"

She laughed a comfortable laugh. "You have no idea. It goes away though."

"So I'm going to be doing this again, I take it?"

"God I hope so. Was I right about the nerves?"

"Yeah….wow." He couldn't stop smiling.

"Don't worry. It's still good once they wear off."

"Hey…um…did you mean what you said? Any of it?"

"All of it… You?" Cuddy wasn't sure she wanted to go there, but she was too curious not to.

"Every word. But that doesn't mean we should or anything." House wondered when he'd become the one with the conscience in this equation.

"Of course not. What would be the fun in that?"

"Right. Wanting what you can't have is much more fun."

"It is in this case."

"I guess it is."

"I should go." Cuddy slipped her jacket on and started back toward the door, where the whole evening had changed direction. "Hey…do you want me to call you later? So you can hear?"

House blinked, dumbstruck. "Uh…yeah. Would you?"

"I wouldn't have brought it up otherwise. Unless you don't think you can go another round."

"I could be persuaded. By the way, you're amazing."

"So are you."

"You mean that?"

"Every word. I'll talk to you in a few minutes." It didn't seem awkward to Cuddy anymore that she couldn't kiss him goodnight.


	3. Chapter 3

Cuddy's hands were unsteady as she dialed House's number. It wasn't that she'd never called him in the middle of the night before; quite the opposite was true. Important doctor stuff and all. It was mostly that she'd never called him in the middle of the night so he could hear her scream (moan, whimper, and whatever else she's probably end up doing by the end of this phone call) his name in pleasure. It was entirely that, actually, despite the number of times she'd done it without him hearing. She mentally chastised herself for being so nervous. After what they'd been doing, it seemed silly to Cuddy to be nervous about a situation in which neither of them would be looking at the other, but all the rationalizations in the world weren't calming her any. You have no secrets from each other anymore, her rational mind tried to tell her poor addled subconscious. Except your fantasies, your desires, her subconscious answered back. He doesn't know any of those…yet.

House picked up on the second ring before she could lose her nerve and hang up.

"What took you so long?" Leave it to House to break the ice.

"Oh, I dunno…driving, trying not to die in a fiery wreck before I got the chance to call you, maybe?"

"Did I get you that flustered?" Only House's voice could be playful, smug, and insecure at the same time.

"No." Yes.

"Then I guess I'll just have to try harder." House made sure to place just the right emphasis on that last word.

"Ooooo…feisty when you don't have to look me in the eyes." Cuddy didn't have to tell House, of course, that she was only joking because she nervous as hell. If anyone knew about that specific coping mechanism it was House. He'd probably invented it.

"I might say the same. So…" Cuddy was astounded that a word as simple as "so" could have so many connotations when uttered by this man. "Where are you?"

"At home. Obviously."

House combination chuckled and sighed. "Come on, Cuddy, work with me. I'm good at this. Probably better than I am at the real thing."

"I beg to differ."

"Oh, you'll be begging soon enough. Just not to differ."

"We'll see about that."

"No, you'll see. Where at home are you?"

"In my bedroom. In bed."

"Now we're getting somewhere. Are the lights off?"

"No."

"Go turn them off. I don't want you focusing on anything but the sound of my voice." House heard rustling and creaking on the other end of the line, a soft click, and then more rustling and creaking.

"Your wish is my command."

House chuckled evilly. "In that case, get undressed." House assumed that if he had to tell her to turn the lights off, she was probably also wearing the erotic equivalent of chainmail.

"I…already was." Even House could be taken by surprise every now and then, and the image of Cuddy padding across her bedroom floor naked with the phone against her ear was something he found both amusing and unbearably hot. "Where are you?" Cuddy wanted to be able to "see" him too.

"Same as you, leaning against the headboard, and wearing the same thing you are, oddly enough. People are going to think we called each other and planned this." He knew Cuddy was trying not laugh; he could almost hear her suppressing it. "So, Doctor Cuddy. How would you like it?"

"What do you mean?" It was her turn to hear House not laugh.

"Good lord woman, if I didn't have personal knowledge to the contrary, sometimes I'd swear you're a virgin. What I mean is…" Cuddy could hear House's sheets crinkle and the phone shift against his ear as he repositioned himself both physically and mentally. "How would you want it if I was there in your bed next to you, hard and wanting and eager to please?" He paused there to let her fully conjure up the image he knew she was conjuring up. "For example…I could be rough with you if you wanted me to be. I have absolutely no qualms with taking your wrists, pinning them above your head, and taking you as hard as I want." House could hear Cuddy swallow hard, and he knew that it was her turn to replay their first and last night together in her mind, the night House had done exactly that. "If I remember correctly, you loved it that way. But times do change, so if you want to mix it up a little, I could bend you over the edge of the bed and give it to you from behind. There's nothing I would like more than to hear you scream because I'm in so deep it hurts, but you're not sure whether you're screaming for me to stop or to never stop." House heard Cuddy let out a shaky sigh, one she tried not to let him hear, and he made a mental note to himself that Cuddy still got off on rough sex, or at least on the idea of rough sex with him.

"Or maybe you want me to tease you. Maybe you want me to suck and nibble on your nipples until they're so hard and sensitive they feel raw, maybe you want me to finger you so agonizingly slowly that you plead for every stroke, maybe you want me to make you so desperate to come that you'll be near tears by the time you beg me to fuck you. Or, if I'm feeling particularly generous, I might just lie back and let you use my body to pleasure yourself; my hands, my tongue, my hard cock, anywhere you want, any way you want. That's what I mean by 'how would you like it', Cuddy."

Cuddy was so turned on from the combination of watching House get himself off in front of her not an hour ago and of entertaining every scenario he had just described that she couldn't think straight. No, she couldn't think at all. She could only feel the tension coiled in the pit of her stomach, the breeze from the ceiling fan dancing over her skin with the lightest of caresses, the clamoring of her nerves as they demanded to be touched. She wanted everything House had suggested, all of that and then some, she wanted to take him and give herself completely to him as many times as possible before they were both too raw and sore to move. She tried once to speak and her voice cracked, making only a dry hitching sound that made her aware of how fast and shallow she'd been breathing. House had to have heard, and Cuddy was a little embarrassed at her response to nothing more than an idea.

"House…I," she tried again and this time sound was produced, but she had no idea what she intended to say. "I want…"

"Come on, Cuddy…please. I'm right there, right next to you, you're one sentence away from having me any way you've ever wanted. All you have to do is ask."

"I…I want it hard. I want you to take me any way you want. But tease me first. Make me need it."

House was immensely satisfied. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Twenty years ago, it had been the same between them. Cuddy had been a control freak even then, and in bed she was no different, but instead of wanting to control him, she'd tried to stay in control of herself and had been afraid of letting go and giving over, not sure if she was "allowed" to enjoy herself. He'd solved that problem by brusquely rolling her onto her back, gathering both of her wrists into one hand, pinning her to the mattress and forcing her to enjoy it. When the decision of whether or not to accept the pleasure he offered was taken out of her hands, only then did she allow herself to be pleasured, and the change had been instantaneous and drastic. She'd gone from being timid and inhibited and almost afraid to move or make a sound to cursing and begging and writing shamelessly underneath him. Cuddy had since traded in her hip-hugger jeans for pencil skirts and her clingy sweaters and tees for blazers and blouses, but deep down, she was still the same woman, a woman who wanted, intensely, but at the same time was afraid of her own desires.

"Oh, I will." House was probably the only man in the world who could leer over the phone, but Cuddy was absolutely sure that's what he was doing. "But since I'm not there to tie you to the bedpost, you're going to have to control yourself, meaning you're only allowed to do what I describe, or the nearest approximation of it. Nothing more. Can you do that?"

"I think so, yeah."

"Good. Get comfortable…" House cleared his throat dramatically. "And then imagine your hand is my hand and I'm trailing my fingers between your breasts, so softly it almost tickles." Cuddy complied by running her fingers slowly up and down the sensitive cleft between her breasts, just barely letting her nails contact her skin. "I spread my hand out over your stomach, sliding it down until I can just barely feel your pubic hair against my thumb and then I run my hand over your hip, down the outside of your thigh and back up the inside, over and over again, closer and closer to where you want me to touch you every time, slower every time until you're squirming under the lightest touch."

Cuddy's hand orchestrated the movements House described step by step, and in the darkness with nothing to intrude on the fantasy, it almost did feel like his hand (or what she half-imagined, half-remembered his hand would feel like), or at least like her hand was bending to his will rather than to her own. With each pass up her thigh, she had to use a considerable amount of self control not to touch herself, to trail a finger up over her clit or slip it inside herself, because she knew if she started she wouldn't stop. Part of her thought House would never know if she did that, the other part of her knew he would, and she also didn't want to spoil the fun of finding out what he had in store for her by taking the shortcut.

"Like how that feels?" Cuddy wondered how the sexiness of House's voice had escaped her until this moment.

"Mmmhmm."

"You want me to touch you?"

"I've always wanted you to."

"You want my fingers inside you, so I can rub against that spot that makes you whimper and squirm so beautifully?" That was one of the things House most liked to watch her to do herself, and he desperately wanted to be the reason she moved like that.

"Yeah…that'd feel so good."

"Or maybe you want my tongue instead. You seemed to like that idea before, and you get so wet it's all I can do not to lick you clean when you finish."

"Either. Both. Just something…please."

"Now now, don't get greedy on me. Tell me which you want more."

Although Cuddy found the prospect of feeling of something inside of her very tempting, even if it was her own fingers and not his, she wanted to drag this out as long as she could, to hear everything House wanted to do to her and exactly how he'd do it. What was more, the memory of what a talented mouth he had never really left her. She'd been too young to fully appreciate it at the time, lacking enough experiences with which to adequately compare, but in the 20 years since, she had yet to have better. Of the handful of partners she'd had that had been willing to do anything solely for her pleasure, only a few of them had been able to get her off that way (or at all, she realized with frustration), and not one had come close to being able to do it as quickly or as well as House had. The first orgasm had actually taken her by surprise. There was almost no buildup, just a rush of unbearable pleasure that, instead of leaving her breathless and satisfied had only whetted her appetite for more. House had happily obliged, treating her to two repeat performances, each taking a little longer than the one previous but no less addictive, before taking anything for himself. She had never fully formed the thought, but she knew that there was nothing in this world she'd deny him if he only offered to make her feel that way again.

"I want your tongue…I'd love it if you-"

"I'd love it if you reminded me how many times I made you come."

Cuddy felt the heat rise in her cheeks, only this time it was slow, smoldering passion that caused it rather than embarrassment. "Three," she said softly.

"How many? I didn't hear you."

"Three," she repeated forcefully, eager to get to the part where he'd let her touch herself.

"Do you remember how it felt? Can you still feel my hands on your thighs, coaxing them apart? You were so shy, so nervous, but you liked the way I was touching you too much to stop me. I doubt you're shy now, are you?"

"Not any more. Not with you." Cuddy's left hand had strayed unbeknown to her back to her thigh, trying to reproduce the feeling of House's gentle yet insistent hand promising her Heaven if she just gave in.

"No, of course you're not. Now you'd spread yourself open in front of me and let me see how wet and swollen you are for my tongue. I can almost feel you shifting your hips under my hands; I can almost see you begging me with your eyes. God Cuddy I wanna taste you. I wanna drive you crazy."

His name was a breath that never made it past her lips, her hand resting expectantly at the juncture of her thigh, knuckles pale.

"I want your fingers knotted in my hair, I want to slide my hands up your body and feel you melt into my touch, I want your nails digging into my arm while I pinch and tease your nipples, trying to hold my hand there as I kiss all the way down your stomach…" Cuddy balanced the phone against her shoulder and brought her free hand to her breast, rolling her nipple between her fingers, then rubbing the pad of her thumb across, then pinching again until she really was rocking her hips with anticipation. "You can feel my breath against you and you hold yours, waiting, thinking about what that first soft stoke of my tongue is going to feel like, about how much you want it, how much you like it."

"I liked it too much."

"No such thing. I could go down on you for hours." Cuddy's hopeful whimper shot straight to House's groin, where his hand had taken up residence. He couldn't believe he was hard again, much less as hard as he was. "Touch yourself, Cuddy. Stroke yourself soft and slow, just like I am. Make it last. Tease yourself and imagine my tongue soft and warm against you."

Cuddy ran her finger softly up the length of her clit and finally exhaled, a surprised "ah" passing her lips when she felt how sensitive she was.

"Good, right?"

"Great." The desire to stroke herself in earnest and get herself off hard was almost too great to resist, but so was the slow burn in her belly and shocks that ran up both legs and settled at the base of her spine.

"Do it again. Feel my hands stroking your thighs, my fingers teasing that sensitive spot behind your knee…" House was fighting a battle with his own arousal at the same time Cuddy was, trying to keep his fingers away from anywhere sensitive enough to make him come while he envisioned Cuddy's soft skin under his hands and the tangy-sweet taste of her on his tongue. "I want to slip my tongue inside you and taste you, feel you buck your hips into my mouth."

Cuddy slid a finger inside herself, her body arching into the contact involuntarily before she had the time to slide it out again. She whined at the back of her throat partly out of sensation and partly because she desperately wanted to feel House's strong hands against her skin instead of her small, smooth ones, she wanted to feel his soft hair against her thighs instead of her sharp fingernails. "That's what I need. More. More."

"You'll get what you need…we both will. Just tease yourself a little more first. Christ Cuddy, I want to hold your hips down and make you scream, run my tongue all over you. Up, down, inside…everywhere."

"Mmmmm….god. God House, yes." She was lost; lost in the sound of House's voice, of her fingers moving over her sensitized skin, touching everywhere but where she really needed to be touched, the spot that would get her off almost instantly if she pressed and rubbed just right, but it felt so good she never wanted it to end.

"I want to take you right to the edge, right up to the point where you're moaning and gasping and your neck is arched back into the pillow and your fingers are clenched in my hair, and you're begging me to finish you off, the point where you just need a little more…"

"Yeah…I'm there…so close…"

"…and then stop."

"No. Please, no. Don't stop. I want…I need…"

"Stop. Not yet." House heard her take a long, desperate breath and then another as she fought for control and then she whined in frustration. This was beyond cruel. "What would do to come right now?"

"Anything. I'd do anything you wanted." Cuddy took a quick mental inventory and came up with nothing she'd say 'no' to.

"Then suck on me. Let me feel what your mouth can do." House was just about as close as Cuddy was, and the mental image of her kneeling in front of him and swallowing him ever so slowly while she stared up at him with those pleading pale eyes was almost his tipping point. "And Cuddy? Make sure you get me nice and wet, because once you do, I'll fuck you. Hard. Just the way you want."

Cuddy's breath left her lungs half in the form of a sigh and half as a sob. She needed to come so desperately, and she wanted House there with her, in the flesh, doing all these things to her. She'd let him tease her until she was insane if she could just touch him, feel his mouth and hands on her and feel his body close to hers. "Lean back…" She heard House's bed creak as he shifted position and for once, did as Cuddy told him. "I'd kneel over you with my legs on either side of one of yours and kiss you softly. Then I'd kiss your neck, your chest, run my tongue over your collarbones, then lower, sucking on each nipple on the way down."

It was time for House's hands to do as Cuddy said. He thumbed each nipple until it hardened, feeling his cock jump at the contact and Cuddy's words. He pictured her staring at him with starving eyes, rendering his muscles paralyzed and useless with desire.

"You look so good, House, so delicious…I just want to wrap my lips around you and swallow you whole, but I'd force myself to savor every inch. First I'd lick the wetness off the head of your cock…" House looked down at his hand and imagined the pad of his thumb was the tip of Cuddy's tongue and groaned at the soft touch. "Then I'd run my tongue all around you, making sure I got every drop."

Cuddy would have liked nothing better at that very moment than to have House entirely at her mercy, so primed for pleasure she could break him with the slightest touch. "I'd wrap my fingers around you and stroke you all the way down, tight and slow as I took you into my mouth, and then I'd just hold you there, not moving, until you begged for it."

House squeezed himself tight and slid his fist down all the way to the base, fighting the urge not to stroke with will that was giving way with every word Cuddy spoke. He could almost feel her lips wrap around him instead of his fingers, and his skin was so flushed with arousal his own hand felt unnaturally warm. "I'm begging you now. C'mon...I need it as bad as you do."

"And I like to tease just as much as you do…so I'd suck you hard, all the way up, stroking you at the same time until you're grinding your hips into my mouth and my fist just like I bet you're doing now."

He smiled inwardly at how well she knew him, because he was doing exactly that; stroking himself slowly, his body forcing his hips to move with every pass of his hand, craving for those final few hard pumps that would make time stop, but trying to hold on and make it last as long as he could, knowing that even now, both ready to snap with the need for release, they were still competing.

But he'd just lost. Listening to Cuddy verbally (and possibly literally, for the way she sounded) salivate over an act most women did only under great duress or for decent sums of money, coupled with picturing and virtually feeling her do it caused House to lose this round, but somehow, he still had the feeling defeat was going to be as sweet as victory, and of course, he could always rationalize that he'd made Cuddy beg first.

"Cuddy… I…I can't wait any more. I'm gonna come any second. But I want it to happen with you."

"That shouldn't be too difficult." That feeling of being right on the edge hadn't gone away.

"Wanted it hard, right?"

"As hard as you can." Cuddy didn't realize it, but she was clenching her teeth, mentally preparing herself for the sharp, forceful thrust that wouldn't come.

"You laying down?"

"No. Leaning. Like you were."

"Even better, because then I'd get to press my body against you, pin you to the mattress, take your hands in mine and wrap your fingers around the slats of the headboard-"

"No. I want to grab onto you instead. Warm skin feels better than cold wood."

"That works too." House was too turned on to manage the obvious sarcastic jab involving wood. "I'd love to feel your arms and your legs wrapped tight around me." He heard Cuddy's bed creek and the phone shift against the sheets and then get readjusted. "Ready?" The word almost literally dripped with sensuality.

"More than ready."

"I wish I could really be about to fuck you until you scream."

"You could be…I want you to be."

"But since I'm not…" House took a moment to regret that fact. "You're going to have to get your fingers nice and wet…" Cuddy didn't think she needed any help in on that front, but she still contributed a little saliva to the endeavor, just to keep herself honest. "Because I'm lying between your thighs and your legs are hooked around my hips. You can feel me against you – and I'm so hard right now, Cuddy, you turn me on so much, even when you're not here." House paused to catch his breath, perilously close to the point of no return. "You can't wait anymore, so you reach down between us, take my cock in your hand and guide me inside you. Once I feel how hot and wet you are I can't hold back and thrust hard, all the way in, all at once."

Cuddy nearly cried with relief when her fingers hit bottom inside her. She'd been so close for so long even the promise of release was almost as good as getting there, and even though it was her own hand touching her, her own fingers inside of her, it had never felt quite this good before. She couldn't suppress the little whimpers and choked sighs that escaped her with every thrust of her fingers, and she didn't really want to. She wanted House to hear how turned on she was, how much the thought of doing all the things they'd described to one another excited her.

On the other end of the line, House was in a very similar state. He was still amazed that he could even get hard again despite his mind being more than willing, and he was even more amazed that he was just one good, firm stroke or two from coming again, probably harder than he had the last time. Cuddy's little muffled sounds of pleasure on the other end of the phone were going to see to that. And then her begging removed all doubt.

"House…please…make me come. I can't…oh god…please. Please." She sounded absolutely tortured, but House couldn't help feeling a little pleased that it was him she was so desperate for.

"Any time you're ready..." House closed his eyes and started to slowly stroke himself again, wanting to get as close to finishing with her as he could. "I wish I was there…I'd love to watch you ride me…let you do it as hard and as deep as you need to…" He sighed and Cuddy moaned, speeding up the pace of her thrusting, frustrated that her fingers were too small to penetrate as deeply as she wanted to. "Come on Cuddy…use me…use me to get yourself off. Come for me…come hard for me. Let me hear you scream."

"House…oh…so close…" She was nearly breathless, her words little more than incoherent whispers.

"S'OK…just like that…I'm right behind you…" He was just as close as she was, so close the pleasure had almost become pain, the most exquisite kind of pain he'd ever felt.

Cuddy's moan as her orgasm began sounded like the worst agony imaginable and the relief from that agony at the same time. The sensation was so intense it made her hands ball up into fists and her spine arch in unnatural ways. Though incapable of coherent thought, she still cried out House's name; he was so ingrained in her mind and into this experience that her thoughts of him obliterated all others. He was a part of every sensation she felt.

It was hearing his name from Cuddy's lips in the throes of pleasure that pushed House over the edge, since he was barely even touching himself anymore, too wrapped up in Cuddy to concentrate on his own hand. The release was sublime, long, and completely draining. He hadn't felt so calm and satisfied in longer than he could remember. Cuddy's deep breath brought him back from the edge of sleep and he hummed contentedly.

"You awake?" Cuddy asked gently.

"Barely," he murmured back. "So…was it good for you?"

"Of course. Who knows what I like better than me?"

"Me." He didn't even sound that conceited.

"You probably do."

"Wanna find out?"

"You serious?"

"Maybe."

"You're not sure?"

"Maybe." He sounded so lazy and happy that Cuddy just wanted to bury her face in his shoulder and fall asleep with him.

"You drive me crazy, House. You know that, don't you?"

"But you love it."

"Goodnight, House."

"'Night. Hey…were you serious?"

"Why do you always have to do that?"

"Why do you still have to ask? So...were you serious?"

Cuddy grinned mischievously in the darkness as she pulled the covers up to her chin. "Maybe." She closed the phone and set it on the side table, but not before turning it off. If she knew there was even the slightest chance it might ring, and that it might be House, she'd never get any sleep. What she never considered was that, on the other side of town, House had done exactly the same thing for exactly the same reason.


	4. Chapter 4

It had started innocently enough, even if it was a nearly laughable cliché. She'd given him a ride home. He'd brought his bike, and it was pouring rain. Anyone else would have done the same thing. Anyone else might have even come in for a quick cup of coffee with a colleague and friend. Anyone else, however, had not been doing what they had been doing on the couch they were currently sitting on.

The silence was heavy as they waited for the coffee to brew. Cuddy was preoccupied with her attempts to suppress the desire to throw herself into House's arms and give him the chance to do all those tempting, horrible, amazing things he'd described to her on the phone a few nights previous. House was preoccupied with both hoping she would and wouldn't do that very thing. They hadn't seen each other since that night, at least not intimately, and when they talked at work the secret was palpable between them. There were stolen glances over boardroom tables, winks behind turned backs, personal space invaded and gladly given up. They had opened Pandora's box and were acting like two teenagers back at school the Monday after prom, the memory of what they'd done and the hope of what was to come eroding their self control with each passing minute.

Now, here they were, both trying to figure out if coffee and a ride home meant coffee and a ride home, or if it was all one big subtext. They'd done the unthinkable; they'd talked. They'd spoken of their fantasies and desires. They had never before spoken of that night in Michigan, at least not in any meaningful way. They didn't talk about what they'd been doing, about why they didn't touch (except for that night at Cuddy's, which was never talked about either) or take it any further. They didn't even talk about why they didn't talk about it.

House fidgeted nervously with his hands, which were loosely folded in his lap. He was trying to tuck himself as tightly as possible into his side of the couch in an effort not to touch Cuddy. Work was one thing; he could trail his fingers suggestively down her spine, she could let her hand linger too long on his arm, he could squeeze her thigh a little too tightly while making a point. It was fine there. Nothing could happen. Here, in the privacy of his apartment, anything could happen if they allowed proximity to get the better of them. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd invited her in. He didn't want her to leave, he just wasn't sure what he was going to do about her presence. Of course he knew what he wanted to do, and he also knew she wanted the same thing. With that knowledge, however, came the obvious knowledge that it would be a mistake. Even still, as long as they were safe and there would be no lasting repercussions in the form of tiny people, it would blow over. It had once, as had all their other mistakes and the wrongs they'd done each other. Surely just one night couldn't….

Cuddy's hand stilling House's fidgeting snapped him out of his rationalizations. Her fingers gripped his tightly until he stopped moving and looked at her, surprise and trepidation written all over his face.

"Stop it. You're making me nervous."

"Sorry," House muttered, not sure if he really was sorry or if he was just trying to think of something to say.

"Why is this awkward?"

"It's not."

"No, not a bit. Obviously. Which would be why you're sitting over there like you're trying to spin a cocoon." Cuddy certainly didn't find herself soothed by the mock reassurance, nor did she find herself any less distracted by the way House's t-shirt embraced his chest and his arms, or the way her hands almost physically ached to touch him. She'd have given up her job, her home, anything she valued in this world to caress those solid curves, to touch him all over and feel his hands on her in return. There was no way she could deal with the thought of never, ever being able to touch him or feel his skin pressed against hers.

"Maybe I am. Coffee's ready." House tried to get his feet under him to stand, but Cuddy's hand stopped him from reaching for his cane.

The words were blurted out before Cuddy could give herself the mental pep talk necessary to find the courage to say them. "I have to have you." House stared at her, speechless. "Shit." She really had said it out loud.

"You're all I think about. I want you all the time. I can barely even concentrate anymore. I'll be at my desk, working - trying to anyway, and then I'll realize I haven't done anything all day except sit and fantasize about you. This…it's not enough anymore." She took a long, shuddering breath and cast her eyes downward. "I know this is probably exactly what you wanted, to have me wrapped around your little finger, and you probably think I'm pathetic, but House, I don't even know how to say -"

"I don't." He sounded absolutely bewildered.

"Don't ---?"

"I don't think you're pathetic."

Cuddy laughed nervously. "Well, that's…something, anyway."

House stared back at her with an expression she couldn't name. It might have been confusion, pity, helplessness, desire, or maybe all of those, but she'd never seen it before. On anyone. And he just sat there, rooted to the spot. Staring. This was absolutely not the reaction she'd been expecting.

"House?" He still didn't move. "Jesus Christ would you just kiss me already?"

His body reacted before his mind did, which he was thankful for, because if it hadn't, he'd have probably sat there for months. He reached for her out of reflex, his hand finding its way to the back of her neck, pulling her towards him so roughly she had to skitter forward on her buttocks to close the distance between them before she fell flat on her face. She had no time to think, only to react as his other arm wrapped around her back and his mouth was on hers, his beard scratching her chin and cheek, his tongue forcing its way between her teeth with no grace, his only desire in the world to claim her body as his.

Cuddy closed her eyes and linked her arms behind his neck, her fingers weaving into the curls above his collar as she struggled both for breath and to pull him closer. His kiss was merciless, absolutely brutal and it was exactly what she needed, exactly how she needed him to be. Maybe later, maybe, there would be time for tenderness and consideration but now there was only this, need that required fulfillment just in case there was no "later". She forced herself to pull away from him just long enough to take one deep, gasping breath and as soon as she did, she felt the pressure of his hand on her neck pulling her in again.

He was right. They weren't close enough.

Moving with the momentum House created, Cuddy raised herself up on one knee, her mouth never leaving his, and threw her other leg over both of his, whining with relief has her body molded against his so tightly there was no telling where his ended and hers began. His hands gripped her hips and guided them down flush against his, forcing her to feel the effect she had on him, the weight and pressure of her body against his erection making him gasp and throw his head back. Cuddy squirmed in his lap, rubbing against him, futilely seeking friction, whimpering in frustration when her efforts just caused more aching and unfulfilled desire.

"Cuddy…" House's voice was insignificant in the place Cuddy was, where there was only heat and pressure and touch. She ignored him and leaned closer to bury her face in the crook of his neck so she could acquaint her senses with the way he smelled and tasted. She licked softly at the tender skin of his throat before biting gently and feeling House's grip on her hips tighten, his body seeking the same thing hers was and getting the same result.

"Cuddyohgod." His plea for attention turned into a hiss of pleasure as her tongue slid suggestively over the hollow under his jawbone.

"What?" Speaking was effort she didn't want to put forth at the moment, preferring instead to see what the curves and valleys of the muscles she couldn't take her eyes off of felt like under the palms of her hands.

"This is going too fast," House pointed out between efforts to catch his breath, stilling the motions of Cuddy's hands by pressing his flat against them. "And we're not doing it here."

"But I don't want to move." The truth was something more along the lines of "I don't want to tear myself away from you", but Cuddy figured what she'd said would suffice well enough.

"I'll make it worth your while. I promise." House grinned wickedly as he nudged Cuddy, encouraging her to move their proceedings to a more comfortable venue.

"And you've never lied to me, after all."

"Not when it really counts." Cuddy noticed that he moved with more vigor than she'd probably ever seen as he started toward the bedroom.

Once there, they found they're passion had cooled none despite the brief interruption, something that was confirmed to Cuddy as House all but shoved her onto the bed, but only after he'd nearly torn her sweater off. She wriggled around to get at the clasp of her bra as House was fighting with the zipper of her skirt, and she cursed the person who decided clothing should have so many fasteners, or that it should be worn at all, especially considering how fantastic House's hands felt on her breasts. He alternated between gentle caresses and firm pinches that had Cuddy writhing so quickly it almost embarrassed her but she'd waited for him to touch her like this for far too long. Her hand was a poor substitute for the skill of his fingers and the desire she felt in them.

As House moved to claim his rightful place between her thighs, the feel of denim against her soft skin reminded her that while she was lying there in all her glory in nothing but panties, he was fully dressed. Cuddy firmly grabbed his hips before the feel of his weight pressed against her could coerce her into accepting something less than the feel of skin warm and bare against hers.

"Don't get too comfortable."

"Wha- why?" Desire had all but shut down his brain and his only hope was that Cuddy hadn't reconsidered at the last second.

"Lose the clothes, House."

"Oh." It was almost as though he'd forgotten he was dressed as he stood up and peeled his t-shirt off. "Then you lose the rest of yours too." He was almost drooling as his gaze made its way down Cuddy's body, stopping at the small scrap of cloth she still had on.

"I hardly have anything on as it is."

"It still counts," he teased, running his fingers under the waistband of her panties as he undid his jeans.

"Fine. Be that way." It wasn't a real pout but still a good enough mock up to give Cuddy a reason to shimmy out of her panties and toss them in House's direction. "Is this what you want?"

Cuddy was referring to her state of nudity, but House had other thoughts in mind when he looked at her and breathed "You have no idea how much."

"I have no idea how much what, House?" Cuddy squatted on the bed so that she was eye level with his hips. "How much you want to fuck me?" She reached out to stroke his cock through his boxer briefs and felt it twitch under her hands.

House's eyes drifted closed as Cuddy traced her nails up and down his length through his underwear. "Eventually," he choked out as she worked his underwear down enough to catch his erection in her hand, stroking him painfully slowly.

"Eventually? So there's something you want to do first?" He could feel her breath against his thighs and knew she must be inches away from him, staring at him, probably with an animalistic hunger in her eyes, but the way she was touching him was so torturously good he couldn't bring himself to open his own.

"Yeah, there's a few things I wanna do-Ooo." His sentence ended in a keening moan as Cuddy took the head of his cock between her lips and sucked hard.

"Such as…?" She liked teasing him and touching him far more than talking, but the talk was part of the tease.

"I…damn," Out of instinct, House tried pushing forwards, wanting to be all the way in the wet heat of her mouth, but Cuddy had her hand wrapped tight around him and wouldn't let him in any deeper. She was driving him mad, giving him nothing more than one or two too-slow strokes at a time. She either had to stop or finish him or he was going to lose his mind.

"Such as what? Come on, tell me." For once, Cuddy had House at her mercy, she was frustrating him instead of the other way around, and she wasn't going to give up that easily. She was going to give up, of course, he just didn't need to know that.

"I told you the other night." Words spat out, then a breath sucked back in just as rapidly. "On the phone."

"So you meant all that?" One tight stroke, all the way up, then stopping.

"'Course I meant it."

"Good. Because this?" Cuddy took the head of his cock back her mouth, circling her tongue softly. "I want it so bad I can almost feel it already. But I'd hate to disrupt your agenda. So tell me what you what's on your mind."

House realized then, in no uncertain terms, that Cuddy had obviously changed in the last 20 years, from a timid, inexperienced schoolgirl to something just this side of a dominatrix, given the right circumstances…not that he had a problem with that.

"Why do I still have to talk to you when I'm right here - right here where I can touch you?" As much as it pained him to do so, House forced himself away from the disarming skills of Cuddy's mouth in the hopes that he could at least make an attempt at thinking. "I could be showing you instead."

Cuddy lay back on the bed, slowly, in the most seductive way she could manage. "Then touch me. Stop talking and show me. I'm all yours." I always have been. She smiled temptingly. "Do anything you want to me."

House nearly had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming, that yes, Cuddy really was stretched out on his bed and she really had just told him he could do anything he wanted to her, but then he decided if he was dreaming, he really didn't want to wake up, and decided to take the opportunity before him instead. He kissed her again and felt her respond eagerly, the passion in her kiss betraying her cool, calm, and collected exterior. As their lips parted, his hand slid to her breast again, kneading and thumbing the nipple to hardness.

"Anything I want, hmm?" Once again, House surveyed Cuddy's body. Perfect. "So many options…where to begin?" He leaned forward and touched the tip of his tongue to her nipple and felt her jump at the contact. "Maybe here?" He sucked gently and Cuddy's hand went to his shoulder, encouraging. He indulged for several caresses of his tongue before moving on to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

Cuddy arched her back and pressed against House's thigh nestled between her legs. She worked her hand down his body, eager to stroke and tease him some more, to drive him as crazy as he was driving her, but before her hand could reach its destination, House grabbed her wrist and extricated it. "Uh uh. You said I could do anything I wanted to you. Not the other way around." Truth be told, he thought he'd lose it if she started touching him again, and while he'd recently proven to himself he could manage a second round with the proper motivation, this was not how he wanted the first one to end.

"Speaking of, where was I?" Cuddy reached up and guided House's mouth back to her nipple which he was more than happy to return his attention to. She made no move to touch him again, other than to thread her fingers through his hair and pull him closer. He spent the next few minutes tonguing and teasing her breasts, and when he felt her start to rub and squirm against him again, he [with some measure of regret] decided it was time to move on.

"Where to next?" House dragged his fingers seductively up and down her thigh as he spoke. Two could play her little teasing game, and it was definitely more fun if they both played. "Any requests?" He leaned forward and kissed a soft line down her neck that made her shiver and sigh. He worked his way up the other side of her neck the same way, stopping to whisper in her ear. "I know what you want." The way his tongue traced the rim of Cuddy's ear earned him another shiver in response. "And I want to give it to you." House kissed her softly as he shifted his weight onto his arms and nestled himself between her thighs. "I just have to know if I can still make you scream."

No more time was wasted with teasing and formalities as House made the journey to the place where he could satisfy his curiosity, and hopefully Cuddy as well. The advantage clearly belonged to him. He'd watched Cuddy pleasure herself countless times and he still had a vague memory of what she couldn't get enough of 20 years ago to work from on top of that. House slid back on the bed and eventually found a position he could stay in for a very, very long time and caught Cuddy's eyes just long enough to smile smugly as he prepared to ruin her for every other man. Her eyes were bright with anticipation, nervousness parted her lips and made her breathing shallow, and she may or may not have mouthed the word "please" just as House's tongue first touched her, so softly she wasn't sure if she'd felt it or was just so eager for it she'd convinced herself she had.

Her confusion was definitely sorted out when she felt House's tongue circle her clit and then slide over, around and over, perfectly…perfect pressure, perfect rhythm. Cuddy was now well aware that he had definitely watched and learned over the preceding months, because she was ridiculously close to coming ridiculously fast. She almost wished he'd stop, or slow down, or something so she could enjoy the getting there as much as the destination, but on the other hand, it felt way too good to ask him to. Cuddy's brain was rapidly losing the fight to hang on to her body, which simply made her weave one hand into House's hair and pull him in, and the other into the sheets to hold on for dear life. The battle was decided when she felt House's fingers slip slowly inside her, searching for that soft, sensitive spot that she knew would drive her out of her mind if he found it. She twisted her hips and strained against him, trying to help him along until she felt his free hand press down sharply on her hip in warning. Cuddy did her best to hold still because there was no way she was going to let him stop now, especially when he was so close to…

"Oh god there… Fuck right there." Cuddy felt her spine involuntarily arch into the sensation of House's fingers against that secret, unseen spot inside her. The pressure of his fingers combined with the tireless rhythm of his tongue was leading her to a place she couldn't bear to be taken away from.

House, for his part, had only one goal in mind until Cuddy had started to moan for more with a tone of desperation that made him wonder if he was pleasuring her or killing her, and it wasn't until he felt her muscles squeeze around his fingers that he realized he wanted to feel it with more than just those, but he was going to have a damn hard time forcing himself away from the way she tasted and the way she felt helplessly squirming and begging under his hands and his mouth.

So he made her a deal, but not before the point where she was gasping with every thrust of his fingers and whimpering with every swipe of his tongue. No, not a second before the point she started moaning his name and pleading with him not to stop because she was so close, please just a little more…

Please.

And then there was nothing. Just the subtle pressure of House's fingers still inside her, held motionless against the very place that needed to be rubbed and stroked, the coolness of the air replacing the warmth of his mouth. At first Cuddy wasn't completely sure what had happened, having been so lost in her quick climb to nirvana just moments before, but the unrelieved aching she felt at the absence of House's attentions made her quickly aware of what the situation was. She lifted her hips, trying to at least get his fingers to move against the spot where they remained, thinking that might be enough to tip her over the edge she still felt close enough to go over at any second. Her efforts offered nothing in the way of relief, however, and the only thing that would was grinning at her lasciviously, immensely pleased with himself that he was torturing her.

"I bet you need to come real bad right now, don't you?"

If Cuddy hadn't been so turned on and so desperate for what he could do better than she could do herself, she'd have probably slapped him. Instead she only nodded the affirmative.

"See, then, that leaves us with a problem. Well, you with more of a problem than I have, but we both still have a problem." He glanced down at his hard cock and Cuddy's eyes followed, completely derailing her next thought and causing her desire to betray her again. What she had intended to be something like "You goddamn smug bastard" came out as no more than a plaintive whimper that only embarrassed her to a greater degree.

"On one hand, namely my right…" He pressed his fingers just a little harder against the screaming bundle of nerves they rested on in order to illustrate his point, making Cuddy's stomach drop and twist in the most delightful, maddening way. "I want to make you come like this. You want that too, I assume. And it won't take much, will it?"

Now Cuddy nodded to the negative, and moaned softly as House slid his fingers slowly down a fraction of an inch, not quite a stroke but enough to keep her one edge, never letting up the pressure.

"Told you I was still good at this. Anyway, what was I going to say? Oh yeah, now I remember. If I do that, I'll get the privilege of hearing you moan my name again, maybe even scream it…and the way you taste? Better than the best Scotch in the world, let me tell you."

"Then do it…dear god what are you waiting for?"

"You're actually the one doing most of the waiting." He buried both fingers inside her then as far as they'd go and felt her clench rhythmically around them. "Trouble is if I make you come on my tongue like you want me to, I won't get to feel that when I'm inside you, and I really, really want to." He swiped his thumb over her clit and she gasped and cursed under her breath. "So here's the solution I propose: I'll give you what you want now, if you promise me you'll come again once I'm where I can feel it. Think you can manage that?"

The mere thought of having him inside her, thrusting deep and hard, just the way she loved it, was almost enough to make the decision for both of them right then and there, but she only nodded again. "Yeah…yeah I will. I can." Cuddy reached for him again, pulling him toward her for a desperate kiss, whispering "If you give it to me nice and rough" in his ear as he pulled away. This was what he wanted from her, what he had always known he could get despite her earlier bravado. She was still the same woman deep down that she had been in college, maybe even more so: tired of having to be in control that she wanted nothing more than to give it up, but she was still unable to do it voluntarily. And he was the same man, amplified by almost a decade of having to listen to and take orders from her. It couldn't have been more perfect if he'd planned it this way.

"And you've never lied to me after all, have you Cuddy?" He couldn't resist.

"Not when it really counts." Which had been exactly the answer House had expected.

"Then I guess I'll have to make it count." House raised an eyebrow at her suggestively, and she would have smiled if he hadn't moved the tips of his fingers back to where they needed to be at the same moment he closed his lips over her clit and sucked. Cuddy's head dropped bonelessly back against the pillow and she let out a relieved moan as House fell right back into that perfect pattern that had her sighing and gasping again almost immediately. He felt her muscles clench under his hands and around his fingers, heard her voice lose its power and her moans turned into soft pants in time with each trip of his tongue over her clit. For a moment he entertained the thought of backing off again, of getting her so frustrated it would start to hurt, but he really did want to her to enjoy this, and he couldn't wait much longer himself. So he pressed in and up and dragged his tongue flat and firm over her clit. That did it, as he knew it would. It was, after all, the same way she finished herself off and on that matter, he trusted her judgment completely. She clamped down so hard on his fingers he felt something click, pressed his head so tight against her he couldn't breathe and screamed, no words, not his name, just formless, mindless pleasure. House did the best he could to keep stroking her softly with his tongue until he felt Cuddy's muscles relax and she finally sighed contentedly and let go of his hair.

"Good?" He smiled softly at her as he knelt between her thighs, stroking them soothingly.

"You have to ask?" Cuddy still hadn't opened her eyes, preferring to lazily bask in the afterglow of a fantastic orgasm, a luxury she rarely got unless she provided it herself.

"No. I just kind of wanted to hear how amazing I am in bed."

"And modest."

"Why would I need to be modest? I just made you scream." House leaned forward, balancing himself on his left leg and his right arm. He kissed Cuddy gently as he took his cock in his hand, rubbing himself against her tauntingly until he felt her start to respond, just subtle motions of her hips at first to try to get the friction where she wanted it. "And I'm about to do it again."

"Oh, you think so?" Cuddy tried to sound cocky, but House still heard the dulcet, breathy quality that overshadowed her voice.

"Yeah, I think so." He made sure to rub his cock over her clit and felt her shift to give him a better angle. "Unless you don't want this." He slid back a couple inches, taking his body out of contact with hers, and before she could stop herself she'd already reached for him.

"House…" Cuddy tried to keep her voice even, but heard the urgency in it herself. "Don't-" She stopped herself then, too needy to get into any more power games with him. "I want it. I want you." She slid her hands over House's shoulders and down to his hips, pulling him back up towards her and was happy when he complied. Honesty really was the best policy, even when dealing with a pathological liar.

Even House knew that there was a limit as to how far it was appropriate to take a pissing contest, and he also knew that limit, in situations like this, was when the hottest Dean of Medicine ever was lying underneath him telling him she wants him. He rocked forward, slipping in just a fraction of an inch, using the combined moisture of his saliva and pre-cum along with her natural lubrication to ease the way and then pulling back again. Cuddy gripped eagerly at his shoulders, one hand anchored behind his neck, breathing hot and close in his ear. Another roll of his hips pushed him in again and Cuddy anchored her leg around his good thigh.

"Come on House…don't tease," she insinuated in his ear. "Fuck me. Take me."

House sighed at the gravity of her plea and pushed, lost immediately in smooth, hot, wet. He didn't know if he was 50 years old or 30, or where or when they were, his body only remembered perfect, like he'd been waiting for two decades to come home. He drew back and pushed in again slowly, relishing how easily Cuddy's body yielded to his and welcomed him, so warm and soft inside from the pleasure he'd already given her, so wet and tight at the promise of more. Each slow stroke made him groan; he felt everything from the way Cuddy angled her hips up just so to draw him in deeper, to the hint of perspiration between their stomachs as their flesh slid together, to the sharp sting of the tips of her nails every time she reached for him,  
wanting him close to her.

"Greg, God!" It was the sound of his first name off of Cuddy's lips that pulled him from his nostalgia. She hadn't called him that in…no, she hadn't ever called him that, even as he lay near death in her hospital. It had been "House" even then. It had been "House" in college too. That was how all his professors addressed him, and it had just stuck. He forced his eyes to focus on hers, wet and pleading in the darkness. There was something raw in them, something bare that he hadn't ever seen before. He let himself be drawn down to her, to rest his forehead on the pillow next to her head and breathe in the scent of her hair. "Deeper, please…harder…I just...I need to feel all of you."

The pissing contest was definitely over. He couldn't have resisted that if he'd tried. Of course, he didn't try.

Putting most of his weight onto his arms and the rest onto Cuddy, which she seemed to like if the way her nails sunk into his shoulders was any indication, he didn't move or thrust, instead he shoved, as hard and as deep as he could and felt something inside him break. There was no pain, no self consciousness, no regard of his leg or any other part of his body except where it was in contact with Cuddy's. She cried out in a mix of pain, pleasure, and surprise and he was vaguely aware that he made have been too rough with her until he heard the words "yes" and "more" hissed into his ear. He pulled nearly all the way out and then thrust roughly in, over and over, holding himself still as long as he could bear to at the deepest part of every stroke, loving the feeling of Cuddy's muscles trying to hold him there until they got used to the sensation and relaxed, needing to feel it again and again.

She was already clutching him impossibly close and trying to hold him closer still, moaning and cursing in his ear, begging him for harder, faster, god yes more, and just when he was starting to become concerned about the fact that he didn't have any more, she wrapped her other leg around him and there it was: that extra breath of an inch that forced him deeper inside of her than he'd have thought was possible, right up against…he didn't even know what, but it. Was. Amazing. Suddenly there was more friction than he could tolerate, unbearable heat, so slick, tight, so good, and he was about to turn her into a liar.

"Lisa I…" And where had her first name come from? "Are you…'cause I'm not…" Apparently he'd used up all the language he had at his disposal on it.

"Just don't stop. God you can't stop now."

There was no stopping and no holding back. He couldn't have done either one if his very life had depended on it, but he wanted to feel, so desperately wanted to feel her…

"Come for me…shit…I can't…I just need to feel you come."

The breathless intensity in House's voice was more than Cuddy could stand. There was making him beg, and then there was him sincerely begging; two completely different things. She closed her eyes tight and blocked out everything except the weight of his body and how good it felt to finally feel him this deep inside her, the way she could never quite remember until now, and then she was clinging to him with every muscle in her body, inside and out, nearly crying with the force of the pleasure that possessed her. She was glad he was only half a heartbeat behind her, far too sensitive and overwhelmed to take any more.

The silence was broken only by the soft rustle of sheets and heavy sighs.

Cuddy wanted to turn away from him and curl up against him, her back against his chest, but refrained for fear his arm wouldn't be there to wrap around her. He was the same man she'd been with 20 years before, but yet he was so different now. Instead she rolled onto her back, stealing a sidelong glance at him here and there, hoping she'd be able to remember what he looked like when he was content. As his eyes slowly opened and reality returned to him, she moved to get out of bed and get dressed, accepting that she would have to compartmentalize tonight, somehow, just as they'd both done since this had all started, the same way they'd always done.

And then she felt House's hand graze her thigh. At first she'd thought it had been an accident, until he tapped her gently and then pulled his hand away as though he hadn't wanted her to know. Cuddy looked over at him, a question in her gaze.

"I thought you'd want to stay. If you don't that's fine, but maybe…just for a while?"

"How long is a while?" House had a welcome that could easily be overstayed.

"I don't know."

It wasn't a good enough answer, but for now it would have to be since there was no other. Cuddy laid down cautiously next to House, her back to him, making sure there was enough space between them to allow him his. She felt him pull the blanket up and turn over, and then his hand came to rest equally cautiously on her hip, which was good enough.


End file.
